The Tortuga Chronicles
by Berne
Summary: That was what had kept his father away from home: the sirencall of the sea and the life of a pirate. He had left his wife and son behind for that, and now Elizabeth was leaving, too, and he couldn't. COMPLETED.
1. Overture

Title: The Tortuga Chronicles

**Characters:** Will/Elizabeth, Jack, Anamaria

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio, various studios including but not limited to First Mate Productions Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer Films, and Walt Disney Pictures. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN:** Written for Dala. You wanted Elizabeth/Will sword fighting and there is some, but it grew past that and into a sixteen-page mini-epic (for me). There cannot be enough love given to my darling betas. Ociwen and Watersword, I love you both dearly.

**The Tortuga Chronicles**

**Overture **

"I'm going to Tortuga."

Will squeezed his eyes shut, hard, until white spots dizzied him. And then he opened them. Elizabeth was still there: a vision in cream and silk, hat ribbons framing her delicate chin, embroidered travelling case resting at her feet. It wasn't a complete shock, not really, but it still felt like a punch to the gut.

Since the wedding, Elizabeth had been growing restless. The Governor would chuckle nervously and liken her to a butterfly, but Will was reminded more of the lions in the travelling circuses that used to visit London, prowling and snarling and snapping at anyone who got close.

Now, though, Elizabeth appeared quite calm, pale and beautiful in the dusty light. She looked vaguely thoughtful, but her chin was raised slightly, a defiant tilt reminiscent of their childhood.

"I've told my father that I'm visiting Aunt Alice in Kingston and I've booked passage on a merchant ship. It'll sail in thirty minutes. Will…"

"I can't go with you." His voice sounded flat, unconvincing. He winced and gestured at the swords lining the walls around them. "I've got too much work to do."

Elizabeth sucked in a violent breath through her teeth. "That's an awful excuse and you know it. You've been working _constantly_ for the last nine months. No one would think twice about you coming away with me to visit relatives. In fact, my father encourages it!"

"The commodore--"

"Had a new sword for his ceremony. He hardly needs another so soon."

Will felt a hot stab of anger. "You have no idea what it's like on that island!"

"Then show me!" Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Then, stepping forward, she reached a hand up to his face, fingertips grazing his jawline. "Show me," she insisted. "You've holed yourself up in here for months, returning when you think I'm asleep and rising with the sun. I never see you anymore!"

It hurt, to see Elizabeth blinking back tears. She spoke the truth; Will had lost himself in swordsmithing after the wedding in the hope that he could smother the constant aching in his chest. He _needed_, quite desperately, but what exactly he needed he wasn't sure. It was something like the ache he felt for Elizabeth, and that had frightened him at first. It made his eyes burn and his head buzz and it hadn't receded at all over the past weeks.

Did he need an adventure? The feel of salt-spray on skin, perhaps, or a rolling deck under his feet; the snap of sails and rum-laced promises. That was what had kept his father away from home: the siren-call of the sea and the life of a pirate. He had left his wife and son behind for that, and now Elizabeth was leaving, too, and he _couldn't_.

"It's so difficult…" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, tumbling over themselves like flotsam. He pressed his hand over Elizabeth's. "I don't know anymore. I thought I did, but now…"

"Then think on it," hissed Elizabeth, eyes darting over Will's face. "You must. I'll wait for you, but only for a fortnight. Will? You must come within a fortnight, do you hear me?" Her voice was low and fierce, eyes glaring, lashes glittering. "You have to come for me, Will."

Will couldn't speak, he didn't have the words, so he leant over and kissed her. It was messy and painful and Will could taste blood bittering the back of his tongue, his or hers or maybe both, but he didn't care, not now, not--

Elizabeth jerked back. Her hat had fluttered noiselessly to the floor and her lips were shadowed, bruised. "I have to go. The ship…"

"Five minutes," Will murmured. "Five minutes more." She turned away. "I'll tell you more about Tortuga. Elizabeth!"

But she was gone.


	2. Act I

The Tortuga Chronicles

Act I

It had taken two days for Will's anger to die down.

He had been incensed enough after Elizabeth left not to immediately follow her. Instead, he waited until he was sure her ship had left before walking down to the strip of beach. It was small, tucked away in a cove some distance away from the town. Will and Elizabeth had discovered it years ago and they had always, rather fancifully, remarked that it was as though a pirate's treasure horde had been ground to dust on the shark-teeth rocks. The sand resembled nothing less than scatterings of powdered diamonds that had been washed in by the sea, glaringly white in the afternoon sun.

He had time to think here, time to sort the clamour in his head. He was not worried for Elizabeth; she was strong and Will had taught her to fight like a demon. She could fend for herself well enough in Tortuga and, after all, the town wasn't that terrible a place. Will had not witnessed one drop of blood shed in all his time there with Jack Sparrow and even though it was a den of drinking and debauchery, Elizabeth would be interested in neither of those. He knew what she was waiting for. Eventually, the _Black Pearl_ was bound to dock there (Jack had loved that town almost as much as his ship) and Elizabeth would step aboard and sail away as she had always dreamed of doing. And Will would be by her side.

Her father would be heartbroken, but he had raised a headstrong child who loved fiercely and completely. And she loved the life of a pirate, always had. It would have destroyed her to stay in Port Royal.

Will had been quite comfortable on land. Since the fated crossing from England, he had kept his feet on dry soil and quite happily given himself up to the forge (and Elizabeth). But then the _Black Pearl_ had come and wreaked havoc on Port Royal, and Jack Sparrow had meandered his way into Will's life, turning everything on its head. And he had never really left.

They had not seen each other for a good year (although it felt like more), but Will thought about Jack a lot, wondering whether the leaden ache that had sunk deep into his bones was a result of him ignoring his pirate blood. Now, as Will contemplated the sun rising above the golden thread of horizon, he realised that Jack had been right about a great many things.

Will stood. He knew what he had to do. It was so clear that he almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. He had nothing left here: Elizabeth was gone and he hadn't crafted a satisfactory blade in weeks. Everything was falling into place; the fog that had clouded the edge of his awareness was receding. He would book passage on the next ship sailing to Tortuga, would meet Elizabeth before the week was out. He suspected that Jack would not be the least bit surprised to see them both, had probably expected them sooner.

So Will turned, breaking into a run as he passed the swaying line of palms, finally surrendering to the tides that pulled at his blood.

* * *

Wind battering the hatch, he could hear it howling like a furious beast, rolling the ship (the _Fia-Nuala_, his mother's name) onto its side. He wrapped his arms tighter around the beam, not caring about the splinters pricking under his nails because he was terrified, stuck down here in the storm. He could hear crewmembers yelling overhead, their feet beating a frantic tattoo across the deck, but Captain Howells had insisted Will was not to get in the way (never mind that he had basic nautical knowledge) because he was a landlubber who had not stepped on a ship for a whole year.

But a ship never let you forget her and Will knew that the groaning creak of boards was the pained warning of a vessel who wasn't going to hold much longer.

_She can hold a bit longer!_

Only she couldn't, and neither could Will, because that had been on the _Interceptor _with Jack, and this was only a tiny merchant vessel with a skeleton crew.

Will closed his eyes, trying to conjure up Elizabeth's face (that's why he's doing this, there is a reason, it's for her -- and for himself), but the pounding of waves drowned out any thoughts that he might have comforted himself with. The ship gave a sickening lurch that almost sent Will flying across the cabin. Damn the captain; he wasn't going to hide below-decks any longer.

Within an instant of hauling himself out of the hatch, he was soaked to the skin. Blinking salt out of his eyes, he could barely see two paces in front of him, but he dragged himself along, keeping flat against the deck, trying to swallow down the rolling nausea crawling up his throat. He suspected that the captain would be at the helm, and there he was, fighting with it, roaring out orders to people that Will could barely make out. When he spotted Will he grinned, so much like Jack Sparrow that Will almost called out his name.

"Mr Turner, took y' long enough!" Howells snagged Will's shirtsleeve as the ship banked sideways. "Take the helm!" They both ducked as a line whipped past their heads. "And I don't want her a single point off course!"

And he was gone, leaving Will to grab onto the helm. It tried to wrench itself out of his grip, but Will planted his feet firmly on the deck, as he had seen Jack do, feeling the strain along the muscles in his arms. It hurt (the sting of seawater against his face, the burn of wood under his fingers) but his blood was singing and he was grinning madly, like Captain Howells, like Jack Sparrow, and he understood and he swore never to let go.

* * *

When the _Fia-Nuala_ limped into Tortuga, there were but five men on board. The storm had not left many of them unharmed and a ragged cheer went out as they docked. Captain Howells was the last to step off the ship and so Will waited, watching the man's practised eye check for damages.

"She doesn't look too bad, considering," Will commented, as the captain approached him.

"And what would you know of it, Mr Turner?"

"I once sailed with Jack Sparrow. He's a good instructor."

"Jack Sparrow!" Will had been expecting the exclamation, but not the dark flash of eyes that accompanied it. "How's he been keeping?"

"You know him?"

Howells glanced sidelong at Will, a strange wistful smile twisting his mouth. "I know him."

* * *

So it went like this: there I was with me crew, sailing to our island, when ol' Timmy up in the crow's nest shouts out 'bout someone lying on the beach. No, I says, no one knows of our cache, but the man insists and as we get closer I spot him. All sprawled out, he was, our rum cache broken into. The men weren't too happy, t' be sure, and they were all for duffin' him up, whoever he was. But no, I says, let me deal with the stupid blighter. 'Twas my first glimpse of Jack Sparrow, y' know, and he was drunk as a lord. I threatens him and I gathers round me crew, but Jack, he don't care. His _Pearl_ had left him, he says, and we all thought he was bemoaning some pretty lass and when the lads tease him he gets all affronted, like. He growled and glared and almost went for ol' Timmy's jugular, but I pins him down and tells him to 'splain himself. Cap'n Jack Sparrow, says he (and he was grinnin' like a madman by now 'cause all the men gasped), and I've lost me _Black Pearl_. Daft, I thought he must be, to lose a grand ship like that, but pirates respect Jack Sparrow and I was soon to become one meself, and so we sits down with him while he tells us his tale. I can't admit to understandin' the part 'bout the sea monsters-- Turtles? Why would there've been sea turtles? Anyway, 'twas a good 'un, 'specially from a man who had drunk half our cache. The men didn't mind no more (they were a soft lot, really) and 'fore we knew it Jack Sparrow was sailing along with us back to Tortuga, charming me men with his promises of riches and women. We all joined him, y' know, and those were the most profitable years of me life. Best ones, too, 'cause he's a clever one, Jack Sparrow, and he knows how to live. Once, when he was deep in his cups, he told me the real tale with Barbossa and Bootstrap Bill and everything. Bill was y' dad? The things you learn. It took a lot out of him, y' know, the mutiny an' all, ripped his heart out and left him without his ship. I've heard he's got her back -- he has, hasn't he? -- and is terrorisin' the east with her. 'S good, y' know, that he was never one for givin' up. The _Pearl_ always was his world.

So, what you doin' in a place like this, Mr Turner?

* * *

"Elizabeth!"

Howells stumbled back from the counter. "Calm down, mate, 'twas only a question!"

"What's the date?" The lazy warmth of the tavern was gone, replaced by a terrible cold. Only moments ago, Will had felt his eyes drifting shut from the ale and the familiar wash of Howell's voice, but now… How could he have forgotten? "Tell me!"

"I don't know! But if you'd like to calm down…" Will pushed away from the counter. "John, mate, what's the date?"

"Twelfth. Why?"

Will felt his heart shudder in his chest. The twelfth. Thank God. He had another week. It was all right. Everything was fine and Elizabeth was here somewhere, he just had to find her… A thought almost choked him. "Twelfth of what?"

The barman frowned over at him. "September, of course."

_No._ No, it couldn't be, he couldn't have missed her. He was out of the bar, down by the dock, searching the crowds of women, but they were all brunette or some hideous shade of red, their faces painted like china dolls, not bronzed and freckled and fine-boned.

"You all right, love?"

Will pushed the whore out of the way, ignoring the indignant curses that trailed after him; he was down at the docks, searching, searching, searching for a ship… But the _Black Pearl_ wasn't there. He squinted at the horizon, willing a smudge of black to appear, but it didn't, of course. Jack would have left three weeks ago, taking Elizabeth with him.

"Mr Turner, you all right? William?"

Will dragged his eyes away from the ocean. "They've gone."

"Who?"

"How long were we at sea?"

"Three weeks, p'raps four. The storm turned us 'round, remember?"

"Three weeks." He laughed, but he didn't know why, because nothing seemed remotely funny.

Howells frowned. "Y' scaring me, mate. What's wrong?"

"Everything." Will turned back to the empty horizon. "Everything."


	3. Entr'acte

**Author's Note: **Thank you CaptainTish and rollinpeaches for your reviews. Much appreciated.

**Entr'acte**

Howells had sat Will down at the tavern and listened patiently to his explanations. They then worked their way through several rounds of ale until Will's head was buzzing. Laying his forehead against the cool wood of the tabletop helped only a little, but he couldn't quite find the energy to sit back up.

"Will, mate, 's not nearly as bad as all that, y' know." A chuckle. "Y' remind me of Jack."

Will lifted his head enough to see Howells' grin. "I remind you of Jack Sparrow?"

"Not in looks, mind you. A parallel, p'raps, in situations."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"'E lost his ship, his love, you lost your Elizabeth. He drowned his sorrows in Tortuga…" He smirked at Will's empty tankard. "Only diff'rance is, he never gave up."

"I am not giving up!" But Will was sober enough to realise that the anger was directed more towards himself than Howells. "I… She left me!"

"She waited for you. And she'll be back again. She loves you."

"And I love her."

"Never said nothing different."

"I know she'll be back, I know it, but I don't want to wait."

"You made _her_ wait. Last time."

Will sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the rough grain of wood against his cheek. "You don't know what it's like." He winced and immediately felt ridiculous. He hadn't meant to sound so petulant.

"I had a wife and child once, y' know." Will jerked his head up, fast enough to make the world tilt around him, and when everything settled he watched as Howells smiled at the tabletop. "They were beautiful."

"What happened? I mean, if you don't mind…"

"My wife's dead now, and my son…" Howells looked up at Will, dark eyes searching his face. "Well, he grew up."

"He left?"

"Not before I did."

Will sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I've been feeling sorry for myself all evening about something that's my own fault. I'm sorry. Tell me about them." Howells frowned, face darkening. "_Please_."

"No." He stood and waved away Will's protests. "No, William, I won't. I've booked us a pair o' rooms upstairs, all right?" He was halfway across the tavern in the time it took Will to blink. "Y' coming?"

Will decided to let it go. "Yes. Yes, I'm coming."

* * *

The next morning saw Will in a far happier state. He was at the docks, his head aching a little, but the pain was by no means debilitating and he smiled as he heard footsteps approaching.

"She'll come," he said, matching Howells grin for grin.

"O' course she will, but you'll have t' wait a couple o' months. Way I heard it, Jack plans to spend Christmas here. He hasn't changed a bit."

Will felt his heart sink a little. "Christmas?"

"Apparently so."

"But… What do I do until then?"

Howells tugged on Will's shoulder until they were facing each other. They were the same height, same build, Will's hair darker and Howells older, creases etched into the corner of his eyes whenever he smiled.

"Fancy sailing with me for a bit?"

Will grinned. "And we'd be here in time for Christmas?"

"'Course. Couldn't let y' miss your Elizabeth again, could we?"

"I…" Happy breathlessness, like how he used to feel around Elizabeth, how he still did when the light caught her just right, reflecting silver-gold. "I don't know what to say."

Howells laughed, eyes crinkling. "Say 'yes'!"

"Yes!"

"Good lad! Now let's gather me crew and plot our course for St Kitts."

Howells made for his ship, still chuckling, but Will stayed for a little while, admiring the sun rise and wondering whether Elizabeth was watching it with him, wherever she was.


	4. Act II

Act II

It was Christmas Eve and a frosty night.

Except it wasn't really, never was in the Caribbean. Will near-skipped his way down the gangplank, ignoring the dispersing crew's jibes. He grinned at Howells, who was beside him, moaning about excitable youths.

"The _Pearl_'s due in tomorrow!"

"So y' keep saying." Howells steered Will into the nearest tavern and settled them both down at a table opposite two women involved in a heated game of cards.

Will was almost giddy as he grinned around at the tavern. "I love this place, you know. When Jack took me I thought it was hideous, but now… It's more a home than Port Royal ever was."

"I should 'ope so," sniffed Howells. "Port Royal's full o' Navy-types with rods stuck up their arses." He grinned. "No offence, mate."

Will smiled into his drink. "None taken."

"Although that Norrington bloke let Jack go, didn't he? Maybe they ain't all bad. Oh, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You're twitching! They're not due till tomorrow, right?"

"Right."

"Right."

Will tried to keep still, he really did, but it was so very difficult when every blonde head that swept by could be Elizabeth. He craned his neck to look past Howells and out of the window, but the bay was ink-dark and still and the small sloops weren't anything near the size of the _Black Pearl_.

"For Christ's sake, lad." Howells turned to the two women seated next to them. "Know when the _Black Pearl_'s due in, girls?"

The dark-skinned one snarled and turned on him. "We're trying t' play here!"

Will blinked at her, recognising the feral twist of lips and the sparking eyes in a second. "Anamaria!"

She gaped at him and then smiled, although it didn't look very friendly. "Will Turner." Her eyes turned to Howells. "And this is?"

"Captain Howells, ma'am, at y' service."

Anamaria scowled and turned back to her game. "Don't 'ma'am' me. Y' make me sound 'bout forty."

Will felt a bolt of panic seize him. "Has the _Pearl_ been in already?"

"Nah." She gestured out the window with one hand and picked up a card with the other. "Jack always repays his debts, just took him a while is all. He commandeered me a pretty little sloop docked out in the bay."

"Commandeered, eh?" Howells grinned. Anamaria ignored him; he glanced over at Will. "Don't s'pose y' know when the _Pearl_'s comin' in?"

"Full house," she announced. The girl opposite her scowled and handed over a small sack of glittering jewels before gathering up her skirts and stalking away. Anamaria took her time collecting the cards and then turned and fixed them both with serious eyes. "They'll be delayed, Jack and Elizabeth. They… I heard there was some trouble, Ivory Coast way, a run in with the Trading Company."

Will stared at her. "Are they safe?"

"Don't know. I hope so. The _Pearl_'s still around, last I heard, but…" She shrugged and cut her eyes away. "Haven't heard from Jack."

"Or Elizabeth," Will murmured. His hopes had been raised and dashed to the ground only to be raised again so many, many times in the past months that he couldn't believe that Elizabeth wasn't coming, that she might be… He wouldn't believe it. "She'll be here," he said, more firmly. "She'll be here."

* * *

Christmas Day was spent at the docks, waiting, as was the day after that. And the day after that, the week after that, even the week after that one. January passed without any sighting of the _Pearl_ and, when Will refused to rest, Howells knocked him out with the flat of his own blade.

The next evening, Will awoke to Howells shaking his shoulder. He squinted through the darkness and tried to will his head to stop throbbing long enough to make sense of the words tumbling out of the man's mouth. "…the _Pearl_, Will, it's the _Pearl_, she's floating in the bay -- William!"

Will was gone. He ran, ran out of the tavern, through the streets of Tortuga, darting down the conspicuously empty streets, following the voices, because there was a din of sound right up ahead, up at the dock. He dodged through the crowds and came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the pier. The _Black Pearl_ was there, anchored out in the bay, dark sails snapping in the wind.

"William!" He turned in time to watch Howells leap into a longboat. "Come on, son!" The next moments were a blur of oars slapping on water, the excited screeches of the crowd and the rocking tilt of the boat as it moved further and further away from the pier.

When they reached her, Will didn't pause before scaling up her hull and flinging himself over the rail. The deck was shadowed and deserted; he was reminded of when she was a ghost-ship crewed by the damned. But now Jack had her back he couldn't imagine why her timbers were creaking so mournfully.

A flurry of movement caught his eye and he spun, sliding out his sword in time to parry a vicious blow to his neck. His attacker leapt backwards and Will had time to right his balance before having to deflect another swipe, this time aimed for his stomach. The other man was short and light, perhaps not even male, and Will could probably overthrow him with weight alone, but he was _fast_, attack not letting up for a second, so that it was all he could do to defend himself. Parry, parry, spin, parry, duck, parry. He was sweating (he hadn't had a proper partner to practice with since Elizabeth left) and was being slowly backed up, cursing himself as he stumbled against the railing, guard down for a precious second that allowed his attacker to slide their blade against his throat.

He stilled, breathing heavily. Eyes were glaring at him from under a wide-brimmed hat, mouth opened to speak. Only it gasped. The eyes were widening, a hand coming up to whip off the hat, releasing a coiled braid of sun-bleached hair that fell down to his -- to _her_ shoulder.

Will stared. "Elizabeth?"

"Will!" The sword dropped and stuck in the deck with a dull _thunk_ as Elizabeth threw herself at him, hands grasping at his back, at his neck, running over his face. He tugged her close, burying his nose in her hair, gasping out her name along with a stream of other nonsensical things that he could never have made head or tail of, let alone expected her to. She was back. She was _back_.

"I love you," she murmured, pulling back to press her nose against his. "I love you, I love you, I love you. And I've missed you so much."

"I know," he muttered, over and over and over, because words didn't matter any more and so he kissed her and she made a small, happy noise -- somewhere between a sigh and a squeak -- that he loved and would have to tease out of her again, sometime soon.

Will pulled back, trailing kisses along her nose, before tucking her head under his chin. "I was told the _Pearl_ got into some trouble with the East Indian Trading Company. Is everyone all right?" Elizabeth was so still so very suddenly against his chest that he wasn't even sure if she was breathing. He coaxed her head up, frowning as she tried and failed to speak. "Elizabeth?"

She closed her eyes, pressing her nose against Will's jaw. "It's Jack."

* * *

It was little wonder that the _Black Pearl_'s deck was deserted: it seemed that everyone was gathered outside the doors of the captain's quarters. Will recognised a handful of them -- Marty, Cotton, Gibbs -- but most were new faces, although all looked equally anxious. Gibbs offered a weak smile in greeting, but Will couldn't quite conjure up one in return. Instead, he nodded and asked, "How is he?"

"Come and see for yourself, lad." He looked past Will. "I see you found him, Miss Elizabeth."

"Actually, he found me."

Gibbs nodded, took a swig out of the flask clutched in his hand, and swung open the doors. The dining room they entered was huge and ornate, swathed in a rainbow of bright-coloured silks.

"Barbossa decorated this room with blood and gold," said Elizabeth absently. "Him and his horrid monkey. Jack hated it."

Will nodded at the door hidden in the far corner of the room. "Is he in there?"

"With Anamaria." At Will's look Gibbs shrugged. "She turned up just before you two, said she could hear the _Pearl_ sighing leagues away."

"The _Pearl_ knows," said Elizabeth cryptically.

"Don't," snapped Will, and pushed his way into the room.

First, he saw Anamaria in the unlikely position of nursemaid, roughly scrubbing a damp rag over Jack's face. Jack. Will moved towards the bed. Jack was awake and appeared quite alert, ducking away from Anamaria's hand.

"Jack, stay still!"

"Bugger off." Will laughed, relief surging through him. Jack attempted to turn towards him, but the move was aborted with a yelp of pain as Anamaria shoved him back onto the pillows. Jack glared at her and waved Will and Elizabeth over, a weak fluttering of his hand. "'S good to see you, Will."

His voice was rough and as Will knelt down beside the bed the relief faded a little. Jack's face was flushed and sweating; he pushed at the pile of blankets on top of him, beckoning Will closer. "She's trying to kill me off," he announced. "First, she throws herself at me with a mind for strangling (I fought her off bravely, of course), then she tries to smother me, and now she's attempting to drown me with a rag."

Anamaria swiped at him again with the cloth. "It's you who's going to get yourself killed. Getting stabbed! Letting it fester! You're a damn fool, is what you are."

"He got stabbed?"

"Boarding a Company vessel," whispered Elizabeth. "They attacked us first."

"Bloody right they did, the bastards," growled Jack. "They've always had it in for me and my _Pearl_."

"And then," she said, raising her voice, "he didn't _tell_ us about it and left it to get infected." She reached over to let her hand hover above Jack's body. "Gangrene. It's his leg."

"Unfair," Jack gasped out, his eyes snapping shut. "You don't attack a lass for no good reason."

"It was meant for me." Elizabeth chewed her lip, dropping down on her knees next to Will. "The knife was meant for me, but Jack took it."

"Like I said," snarled Anamaria as she turned her glare on Elizabeth. "Damn fool."

Jack moaned and turned his face into the pillow. "Ladies…" He gritted his teeth on the rest of the sentence, body arching under the blankets.

"He's been like this for a week," hissed Elizabeth, pulling Will onto his feet and away from the bed, "but it's getting worse and the next respectable doctor is in Port Royal and we _can't_ take him there."

"William!" Will turned back to the bed, feeling his heart wrench as Jack bit back on a gasp of pain. "How did you get here, mate?"

"Does it matter right now?"

"It matters. Just…just talk to me, savvy? It's… Come here, I can't see you properly."

Anamaria looked frantic, but stood from the chair, gesturing for Will to sit down. He did and took hold of Jack's hand, lifted it from where it lay, a dead weight on the covers. "I met a man called Howells, Jack, Billy Howells. He said he knew you well."

Jack frowned. "Never heard of him."

"You must have done. He was the captain of the rumrunners who got you off that island."

"The rumrunners delivered me straight into the hands of the East Indian Trading Company." He coughed. "Bastards, all of them."

Will stared at Jack. The other man seemed so convinced… But he was also ill and feverish and not terribly lucid. "He's my height," Will insisted, "lighter hair, with a ship called the _Fia-Nuala_ and a tattoo of…of something in Latin on his shoulder. He said you'd understand that."

"_Libertas_."

"That was it! You do know him!"

Jack tried to struggle up, but his arms wouldn't hold him and Will watched helplessly as he knotted himself further into the blankets. "Bill!" The word was half-gasped, but Will still caught it, and by Elizabeth's frown she did too.

"What?"

"Bill!" Jack's hand twitched, fingers flexing around Will's. "'S Bootstrap."

"He's delirious." That was Anamaria, sounding uncharacteristically worried. Will stared at Jack. His eyes were bright, his breathing short gasps that echoed off the walls. "He… He's bleeding again!"

Anamaria's screech brought Will snapping back. Jack was ill, feverish, and his blood was soaking through the blankets.

"But we must have put four layers on top of him!"

Gibbs had slipped into the room and was peeling back the covers, his fingers coming away sticky and dark. Anamaria paced the other end of the room, hand covering her mouth; she looked like she was about to be sick. The cloth being twisted between her fingers was not a rag, Will realised, but Jack's headscarf. Elizabeth… Elizabeth was kneeling beside Jack's head, running trembling fingers over his face. But Jack wasn't looking at either of them.

"Will, give Anamaria the _Pearl_. They like each other."

"Jack! Jack, don't do this."

"You -- you two look after each other." His breath hitched. "Tell… Tell Bill '_libertas_'. Tell him that for me, Will."

There wasn't anything for Will to do but nod. Nod and try to blink the burning at the back of his eyes away. "I will. I'll tell him."

"Good lad. Good…" Jack's eyes shut and he shuddered, falling still, his hand lax in Will's. The _Pearl_ groaned, a shriek of timber that sounded to Will as though the world had shattered.


	5. Cadenza

****

Cadenza

"Do you yield?"

Elizabeth glared over the point of his sword. "No." She pushed the blade aside and grabbed the front of Will's shirt, surprising him into a grunt that was lost against her mouth. He was vaguely aware of letting go of his sword, but now there was cold steel against his neck and a cheer exploded from the crew.

Will blinked at Elizabeth's triumphant face. "Cheat!" Her grin widened. "Don't say it! I don't think I want to know what else you might have picked up from Jack. Fleas, probably."

"I don't appreciate that, Mr Turner. Insubordination, I'd call it. Could have you flogged, you know."

Will turned (as much as the dagger at his throat would allow) in time to see Jack make his way across the deck. He was limping and leant just a little too heavily against the railing, but if Anamaria couldn't make him stay in bed, no one could.

"Good to see you up, Captain."

He was rewarded with a glittering grin. "That's more like it. Elizabeth, darling, put the dagger down. I need to have a word with our Mr Turner."

Elizabeth favoured Will with a quick kiss. "I'll be with Anamaria."

The crew dispersed with her, all save for Gibbs, who stayed as Jack muttered something in his ear. Will neared and Jack nodded, shooing Gibbs away with little fluttering motions.

"What was all that about?"

"Gibbs?" He pulled out a bottle of rum from the seemingly bottomless pocket of his coat, uncorked it and took a swig. At Will's eye-roll he clutched it to his chest. "It helps with me recovery."

"But of course."

Jack laughed, slung an arm around his shoulders and spun them both around. Clouds scudded high above them, the sky a clear, thoughtless blue. Waves broke against the _Pearl_'s hull, prickling his face with salt. He licked at his lower lip and smiled.

"The _Pearl_'s happy."

"Aye." Jack sent him a sidelong smile. "Aye, that she is." A cloud crossed the sun and something in his expression shifted; he sent an inscrutable look over at Will. "I remember something of what you said. When you first came."

Will's muscles tensed; he forced himself to relax. He had wanted to talk to Jack for so long, but the other man had been sleeping almost constantly for the last week. "About Howells?" Jack said nothing. "You were ill."

Jack turned on him, looking so outrageously offended that Will almost laughed. "You think I'm daft!"

"Not daft, delirious."

"Delirious, he says. I knew perfectly well what I was saying."

Will winced. "Jack… My father's dead."

"Ten years! Bootstraps are leather, chances are--"

"I know that! Don't you think I haven't thought about it a hundred times over by now? But he wasn't…" The familiar wash of Howells' voice, _libertas_ ('freedom', Elizabeth had informed him), the _Fia-Nuala_, the lingering, pride-laced glances. "He couldn't have been."

Jack made a noncommittal noise and dipped his fingers into his pocket. "I found this tacked to the _Pearl_'s hull. It's William's writing."

The note was stained and worn soft, the creases almost making the staccato writing illegible.

_See you at our island. W. _

"It could be a trap. It could be Norrington."

Jack snorted and snatched the note back, not even glancing at it as he stowed it away in his pocket. "Unlikely."

"You… You wrote it!"

"You know that I didn't."

Will knew. He also knew that the shock wasn't as huge a one as it he supposed it should be. He had half-convinced himself without Jack's help that Howells was indeed his father. He had never known him. Jack, on the other hand, had by all accounts been friends with him for years. But his face was blank, eyes reflecting the tumbling seas.

Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You had an island?"

Jack's grin was slow but genuine. "What's a pirate without an island to stash his treasure on? Barbossa most likely took what was hidden there, but the place is real enough."

"Ah. That's what you were telling Gibbs."

Jack's eyes swept the open bay, as if looking for a discernible landmark. "Over that way," he announced with a sweeping gesture. "A couple of days' sailing so long as these winds keep up."

Will watched Elizabeth and Anamaria converse over the helm, the dark woman attempting to snatch her hat back. Elizabeth looked happy, her hair sand-bright in the sunlight. The crew had started singing; even Cotton joined in with his tuneless hum. Jack was singing, too, glittering and swaying enough to do a Tortugan whore proud as he weaved across the deck towards the helm. The limp wasn't quite so obvious now and he was yelling orders as he went. "Weigh anchor! Hoist the sails, you lazy dogs!"

The crew scattered, some scaling up the rigging, others pulling on ropes. Will was at the helm now, with Elizabeth at his side; she had apparently managed to keep hold of Anamaria's hat and it scratched his neck as she hung from his shoulder, grinning madly. Jack was grinning, too, as he turned the helm, making the boom swing across the deck. The _Black Pearl_'s sails filled and she lurched forward.

Tortuga was soon a dot on the horizon, gone, and then there was nothing but the crashing sea, Jack's irresistibly infectious grin and Elizabeth's body pressed against his, warming him until that ever-present ache faded as though it had never been there, swallowed by the sea.


End file.
